


trick or treat

by schittyfic (sixtysevenlmpala)



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Anxious David Rose, Boys In Love, COVID-19, Crafts, Fluff, Halloween, Humor, Husbands, Light-Hearted, M/M, Married Life, Pandemic - Freeform, Patrick Brewer is a Button, Patrick Brewer loves David Rose, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 06, Trick or Treating, just absolute tooth-rotting fluff guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:07:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27199603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixtysevenlmpala/pseuds/schittyfic
Summary: 2020 is really getting to David. He really thought all of this would be over by Halloween. Patrick, however, has an idea to lift his spirits.Involves crafts, silliness, trick-or-treaters, and adorable husbands being adorable.(This does mention some minor general anxieties around the current Covid-19 situation, so a fair warning if you'd like to avoid that - I won't take it to heart!)
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 24
Kudos: 105





	trick or treat

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know where this came from but it wouldn't leave my brain so I wrote it in a couple of hours. I more than relate to David in this, so this was definitely a comfort for my soul to write!
> 
> Enjoy this fluffy little ramble. <3

They’re tucked up on the couch watching an old baseball game (well, Patrick’s watching; David’s more focused on his phone and the wine in his hand), when it suddenly blurts out. “D’you think it’s sad that kids can’t trick-or-treat this year?”

Patrick blinks down at David where he’s pillowed on his chest, surprised by the genuine wistfulness underlining his casual tone. “Uh… yeah, I guess so. I mean, technically they still could, but it’s probably for the best. Who knows what kinda germs they’d pick up from all those random candies. It’s… actually surprising and kinda gross that no one really thought about that before.”

David makes a distracted _hmm_ noise, and Patrick peers over his shoulder to see him scrolling through Twitter, various Covid-related quotes and news headlines skimming past.

“You’ve never particularly cared about kids trick-or-treating before. In fact, you’ve been pretty vehemently against the idea,” Patrick says, an invisible question mark at the end.

“ _U_ _gh_ , it just - this all _sucks_ ,” David sighs out frustratedly, locking his phone screen and then instantly opening it up again. “I’m just. Really ready for all of this to be over. Even if that means tiny ill-dressed vampires _screeching_ at me on my doorstep and robbing me of treats I would rather eat myself.”

“Yeah. I know.” Patrick presses a kiss to the top of David’s head, stroking a soothing hand over his arm. 

David’s anxiety had crested at the beginning, when they’d been thrown into a local lockdown and he’d been convinced they and everyone they loved would die a terrible death. Patrick had quickly learned what exactly a full-blown panic attack looked like for David, and how to at least _try_ to help, although he usually ended up feeling useless as he held his shuddering, sobbing, or dry-heaving husband. 

Now, at least, the acute panic of it all has faded into the background, but what’s left is perhaps harder to deal with - a never-ending yearning for normality, a constant stream of uncertainty from every news source, and a sense of dread that maybe this is what life is now, forever.

“And kids don’t - they don’t, like, _know_. So. They just don’t get to do the fun stuff they usually do and stuff their sticky little faces with candy, for no apparent reason.” David shrugs, like he does when he’s self-conscious, or showing an inordinate level of human emotion. “Just seems... unfair.”

Patrick hides a smile in David’s hair, feeling a quick rush of adoration for the man he married. “Did you trick-or-treat when you were younger?”

David takes a large swig of wine. “Umm - well, I didn’t exactly have _friends_ , and my mother felt that trudging around other people’s houses begging for food was _uncouth_. So. Not really, no. But we usually had a very lavish party, anyway.”

Patrick nods carefully and tips David’s chin up to look at him. “You think maybe you feel bad about this year’s kids not being able to go out ‘cause you didn’t get to go either?”

“Okay, I didn’t ask for a _therapy session_ ,” David snips, rolling his eyes, but there’s a softness to his smile. “I’m just - commenting on the state of the world, is all.”

“Mm-hmm.”

**

David gives out a dramatic groan as he fumbles the door open and dumps the two full bags of groceries unceremoniously onto their kitchen counter, one of them instantly falling on its side and letting two tomatoes roll out. Breathing heavy from exertion, David carefully removes his mask (black with a grey geometric pattern, custom-made from Etsy) and very thoroughly sanitises his hands before wandering into the house.

“Babe?”

“In here.”

David stops in the doorway to the lounge and frowns when he sees Patrick cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a thoroughly confusing array of items. “Um. What’s this?”

Patrick holds up two long, white cylinders. “Mailing tubes.”

“Okay. And the rest?”

Patrick grins. “Got some cardboard, paints, black wrapping paper, tape - some stuff for decorating, too.”

David opens his mouth and closes it a couple of times, pursing his lips at the situation in front of him as he tries to make sense of it. “What - why, what-what are you doing? You’re - crafting?”

“Could say that.” Patrick honest-to-god _winks_ at him, and David twists his lips away from the smile threatening to pop out. “You’ll see. Hey, get me a tea?”

**

The day before Halloween, they’re finishing up dinner, and David is nicely full of Patrick’s signature spaghetti and some generous glasses of a wonderful Chianti. Patrick rises to take the empty plates but David catches him, tugs him downwards by the shirt into a deep kiss, Patrick humming in surprise against his lips. David slides his hand around the back of his neck, scritching his fingertips through the hair at the nape the way he knows he likes, and Patrick almost melts into it. “Y’know, you don’t _have_ to do the dishes right now.”

“Yeah? You have other ideas?” Patrick laughs, leaning into the touch.

“Possibly.”

Patrick responds with another kiss, slow and methodical and hot, casually licking into David’s mouth like he owns it, and David begins to smile at getting his way. Of course, that’s when Patrick straightens up, clapping a hand onto David’s shoulder and grabbing up their two plates from the table. “As tempting as that is - I also kind of had a plan for tonight, and it’s time sensitive, so.”

That’s the business-like tone that David’s used to hearing in the store - it means he hasn’t a chance in hell of arguing, because clearly Patrick has his mind set on something which he’s probably made a spreadsheet for. David lets out a huffy _urgh!_ noise, and begrudgingly drags himself over to help dry up. It doesn’t take long, but Patrick refuses to let on to what they’re doing, so David is beside himself with impatience by the time Patrick leads him into the lounge.

He bends down and pulls something out from under the couch - a long tube wrapped neatly in black tissue paper, a cardboard cut-out of something (was that a ghost?) and a plastic box of garish crafting materials which hurt David’s eyes to look at - glitter, pipe-cleaners, googly eyes, you name it.

“It’s, ah, a candy chute.” Patrick looks somehow sheepish and proud of himself all at once, and David loves him _so much_ , even though he’s smile-grimacing at him right now. “So - you just have to rig it so that the end of the tube goes through the ghost’s mouth, like so - and then we can be safely up on the porch and send the candy down the tube, into the kids’ bags.”

David presses a hand to his mouth and glances between Patrick and the _contraption_ he’s made, picturing him taping plastic tubes together and painstakingly painting a not-too-scary cardboard ghost. “Okay, that is possibly the most wholesome thing I have ever fucking seen.”

Patrick shrugs a shoulder, tips of his ears tingeing pink. “I mean, I got the idea online. I watched a _lot_ of YouTube videos.”

Giving his husband a quick, firm squeeze, David gestures vaguely to the rest of it. “So, um, I’m guessing _you_ are going to be decorating this using those… _vibrant_ little adornments, and I’m going to encourage you from the couch?”

“Nope. You’re decorating it with me. C’mon,” and Patrick tugs at his hand as he sits himself on the floor, David grumbling as he folds his legs up to do the same.

“We haven’t even discussed a theme!”

“It’s Halloween, David. It’s Halloween-themed.”

“Mm-kay, but I really think this would turn out a lot more cohesive if there were, say, a moodboard involved--”

“David.” Patrick presses a finger to his lips and opens up the box full of sequined, glittery, colourful mess. “Less talking. More crafting.”

**

Swaddled up in a thick blanket with a steaming cup of cocoa and his legs resting across Patrick’s lap, David sighs and looks out over the porch. In the dusky pink light of the fading day, there’s not many kids giggling past their house - not as many as there usually would be - but there’s some. And of those, a few of them do approach, the adults with them a little apprehensive and immediately assessing the risks, but visibly relaxing when they see Patrick’s riggings. He even built some wooden supports to prop the tube up on the ground - built them with his _actual hands_ \- David watched him hammering away the night before, and instantly discovered a new-found appreciation for woodworking. Or, rather, his husband getting all sweaty and flushed over woodworking. 

The thing itself looks absolutely insane - there’s no theme, the colours clash terribly, there’s _far_ too much glitter, who knew Patrick was so pro-glitter? - but David remembers the two of them bickering and laughing over it, remembers Patrick putting so much effort into creating a spider out of a pom-pom and pipe-cleaners, remembers him sticking a googly eye to David’s forehead and David threatening him with the craft scissors. Most of all, he remembers Patrick’s face absolutely lighting up when it was finished, and how he couldn’t help but kiss him.

A pocket-sized pirate and what David can only describe as a mummy-werewolf hybrid make their way towards the house, skipping and hooting. They’re both wearing little cloth masks covering their nose and mouth which loosely match their outfits - David’s chest tightens at the oddity of it, again reminded of how different everything is, of how it might never be the same again. Then he hears, “ _Trick or treat!_ ” and although the pitch of the shriek sets his teeth on edge, he actually welcomes it. That much hasn’t changed, at least.

“Hold on, guys,” Patrick calls down from their porch seat, quickly pumping some sanitiser on his palms and reaching for one of the bags of sweets which David had painstakingly divided up the night before, sealed in individual cellophane. “Hold your bags up to the little ghost’s mouth, alright? The candy’s gonna come right outta there.” He holds the tube up at more of an angle and sends the bags sliding down one after the other, excited giggles and squeals echoing up from the kids.

A chorus of, “ _Thaaaank yooouu,_ ” and they’re running off again, back to a mom waiting at the end of the drive who waves thankfully at them.

“Happy Halloween! Be safe!” David calls after them, unexpected even to himself, and finds Patrick grinning at him. “...What?”

“Never thought I’d see the day you actually _smiled_ at trick-or-treaters, let alone wish them happy Halloween.”

David waves his hand, dangerously close to slopping his cocoa over the both of them. “Yes, well. Maybe I’m just so starved of social interaction these days that I’m getting _really_ desperate.” His eyes crease and twinkle when he gets a laugh out of Patrick, and he looks down at his mug, tapping one finger so his ring clinks against the china. “Thank you. For doing this. It’s… pretty adorable.”

Patrick shrugs, pulling him in closer and pressing a sweet kiss to his jaw. “You seemed like you needed a bit of normality. I know this is still pretty far from normal, but - it’s something.”

David nods, doesn’t need to reply. He still isn’t used to how well Patrick can read him. He’s pretty sure that in ten, twenty, thirty years from now, Patrick will still catch him off-guard with ridiculous, thoughtful gestures which just topple him head-over-heels all over again. He’s absolutely screwed, and he loves it.

“I still think we could have gone with the black and silver colour pallette, but--”

“Alright, drink your cocoa, David.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> Halloween is my absolute favourite time of the year and I'm pretty bummed it can't be celebrated like it usually would be. I saw the idea for the candy chute online and it kind of warmed my heart to see people coming up with all these different ways to keep a little bit of 'normal' in their lives while still adhering to safety guidelines!
> 
> As always, please leave a kudos/comment if you liked, or if you have any other feedback. Love to hear from you all <3


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